


searchin' for a heart of gold

by owilde



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Fluid Sexuality, Internalized Homophobia, Introspection, Multi, Polyamory, Wordcount: 5.000-10.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 10:58:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15604806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owilde/pseuds/owilde
Summary: Nancy Wheeler has a lot of love inside her.It only makes sense, then, that there'd be a lot of people she fell in love with, too.





	searchin' for a heart of gold

**Author's Note:**

> i love nancy wheeler _a lot_. i also love shipping nancy with a lot of people. so, you know. i had to write all of them. 
> 
> title taken from Neil Young's "Heart of Gold"
> 
> NOTE: I know that in this, Nancy's initial definition of bisexuality is "both". Obviously, this isn't accurate, considering there aren't just two genders. It is, however, a reflection of the times. That's all.

**1974**

 

Nancy was seven and the boy from next door was pulling her braids. He yanked at the woven brown strands with a gleeful cheer, hard enough that Nancy let out a shrill yelp and took a step away from him. Her scalp was tingling from where the roots of her hair began, an odd static sensation that only lasted for a short while.

It hurt, but Nancy felt it was her pride that had taken a greater hit. Grown-ups were staring at them, most of them looking amused with their lips tilted into small, blank smiles. They were more absent than not, lost in conversations about things Nancy didn't understand, like taxes or voting, or gardening. She didn't like grown-ups all that much, except for her mom, and sometimes her dad. But he was often at work, and her mom was busy with _Mike_ , so Nancy was wary of everyone over the age of thirteen.

The sun was scorching hot against the bright blue sky, devoid of clouds. It was unusually hot for early September, or at least that was what Nancy had heard everyone say repeatedly the past week or so. She felt sweat trickling down her back where her dress was clinging to her skin uncomfortably. Nancy shielded her eyes and turned to glare at the boy she'd stepped away from, her lips pulling into an impressive pout.

The boy looked at her defiant expression, and laughed with a casual, thoughtless cruelty found within most people. Nancy didn't know it then, but she'd learn just how ugly people could be, and the kid from their next door house was only a small drop in an ocean.

The boy grinned, flashing a row of pearly white teeth, all still intact safe for a neat, empty spot in the upper left side. Nancy didn't know how it had come off. She hoped it had hurt. Then she felt bad for hoping that, because her mom had taught her to be the bigger person in confrontations like this. But he'd yanked her hair. Everyone knew you didn't touch a girl's hair, and especially not when it was in neat braids capped off with light pink velvet ribbons.

"Why'd you do that?" She asked, toying with the edge of her braid.

"I wanted to," the boy said. Nancy didn't know his name. She thought maybe it started with an R. "Your hair looks funny. I thought it would come off if I yanked hard enough."

"That's stupid," Nancy told him vehemently. "Your hair wouldn't come off if I pulled at it."

The boy laughed again, the sound echoing around Nancy's mind, irritating her. She stomped her foot and twirled around, marching away from him and towards where her mom was. She was in the middle of a conversation, a wine glass dangling delicately from her hand. She noticed Nancy approaching – she kept talking, but opened her free arm to allow Nancy to press against her side, wrapping the arm around Nancy, shielding her away from the rest of the world.

"Oh, I told her, the rose gold will never go with the blue," she lamented to Mrs. Greensbury. "But she bought it still, I don't know what's gone into her lately – what is it, sweetie?"

Nancy looked up at her with wide, round eyes. "The boy from next door pulled my braid," she whined. "It hurt."

Her mom smiled gently. "Robert only did that because he likes you," she told Nancy. "Lots of boys do silly things to get attention from girls. It's just how they are."

It wasn't the first or the last time she'd tell lies to Nancy. It was the first time she told her a lie about boys, without neither of them knowing it was a lie.

Nancy's pout deepened. The answer didn't completely satisfy her – Robert (and she'd known it had started with an R) had never seemed to be interested in her before. Mostly, he rode his bike around town and hung around his dad's garage, watching him fix cars. He was nine, and from what Nancy knew, nine-year-old kids were too cool to hang out with seven-year-olds. That was what Barb had told her, and she knew lots of things about the world. She read a lot.

"Why can't he just tell me that?" Nancy demanded to know.

But her mom had already turned her attention back to Mrs. Greensbury, and Nancy's question went unanswered.

She saw Robert infrequently, after that. He still rose his bike around Hawkins, and continued to be a presence in their neighborhood, but he didn’t pull Nancy’s hair again. He barely acknowledged Nancy’s existence at all, and if he did, it was only to salute her as he passed by their house with his stupid bike.

Nancy wrote about Robert in her diary, but _only_ because he’d annoyed her. Robert was insufferable. Everyone else thought he was charming and sweet, but Nancy didn’t understand how that could be. She remembered his laughter, the mirth in his eyes when she demanded reasons for what he’d done, and she frowned. Robert wasn’t a nice kid.

She told Barbara about it, because she told her everything.

“He’s just jealous,” Barb said, kicking a stone down the road.

They were on their way to the nearby lake for a swim, before the air got too cold and the water too dark and scary. It was a cloudy but warm day – Nancy hadn’t bothered with a light jacket. The slight breeze caressed her skin as it flew by.

“Jealous?” She asked, glancing at Barbara. “What does he have to be jealous about?”

Barbara shrugged. “His dad makes him cut his hair really short,” she said. Nancy didn’t know how she knew. “Maybe he wants to have long hair, too. I know a lot of boys in our class who want long hair, because they think it looks far out.”

This, to Nancy, seemed like a more plausible explanation than Robert _liking_ her. She didn’t want him to like her. But jealousy – that she could understand, and digest. She knew boys with long hair, too, and some of them looked nice and some dumb. Robert would’ve looked dumb, she thought.

“I guess,” she said aloud. “I still don’t understand why he can’t just say it to me.”

“People are afraid of being honest,” Barb said. She sounded confident about it, but she sounded confident about most things she said.

Nancy thought she was right, regardless.

They continued walking in silence, and Nancy didn’t give much thought to Robert after that.

 

**1977**

 

Nancy was ten when she realized what a crush was.

She was sitting in class, staring at the back of Gabriel Jackson’s head intensely. She did this a lot. He was left-handed, she noticed, and his writing was exceptionally good compared to, say, George’s. He sat with his back straight, and wore nice clothes, and he had a sweet, soft smile he rarely let anyone see.

She was staring at him, and he dropped his pen. As he leaned down to pick it up, he caught her staring, and flashed her a brief, polite smile. Nancy’s stomach fluttered, and she felt her cheeks flush. She didn’t have time to smile back before he was already straightening up and looking away again, tapping his pen distractedly against his desk.

Nancy had read a lot of books where people’s stomach’s got fluttery. She knew then, sitting in an afternoon math class, what she was experiencing. She wasn’t an idiot. She bit her lip to prevent herself from smiling, and continued writing her answer to question seven.

Nancy caught herself staring at Gabriel a lot, after. She noticed the way he picked up fallen books for people, and wrote a lot in his notebooks, and shared his lunches with his friends. He seemed genuine. Nice. Smart.

Nancy was smitten.

Gabriel had transferred to their school that autumn from somewhere on the East Coast, along with his family. At the cusp of their arrival, Nancy had heard people talking to each in hushed tones about how their town was becoming more urban, and she'd frowned in confusion and asked her mom about it.

Her mom had given her a helpless look. "Sweetie," she'd said, crouching down to her level and placing a hand on her shoulder. "Sometimes, in these small places, people don't want change. They're scared of it."

Nancy said she didn't understand people, and her mom had given her a placating smile and gone back to baking a casserole.

So, Gabriel and his family had moved to Hawkins, and the world had continued spinning on its axis like always.

Nancy's crush had developed slowly, like rolling clouds. Everyone had been curious about Gabriel in the beginning, some more benign and some less so. It was what they’d whispered to each other about in the cafeteria, and during recess, what they’d written about in passed notes. After Gabriel had arrived, he’d been the news of the week.

But most had lost interest within the month. Except for Nancy. Nancy did anything but.

Her chance arose right before Christmas, in the form of the annual Snow Ball. She was having a sleepover at Barbara’s house, lying on her bed and absentmindedly bending and straightening the floppy ears of Barbara’s treasured fluffy bunny, aptly named Mr. Bun.

“Barb,” she called out, lifting her eyes to look at Barbara who was sitting on the floor, drawing.

“Nance,” she returned, not looking up.

“Do you think…” Nancy bit her lip, returning her gaze to Mr. Bun. “Do you think Gabriel would come to the dance with me, if I asked?”

This piqued Barbara’s curiosity; she froze for a second, her fingers curled around her pen. She eyed Nancy, who looked back at her, hopeful and scared. Then she returned to her drawing with a sigh, pushing her glasses further up her nose.

“I dunno,” she said slowly. “I haven’t really talked to Gabriel. I don’t know what he’s like.” She paused, frowning in concentration as she outlined the head of a snowman. “You like him, then?”

Nancy shrugged, tying Mr. Bun’s ear together. “I guess,” she said. “Yeah. Is that… okay?”

Barbara was still drawing. Her mouth pulled into a thin line for the briefest of seconds, before her expression relaxed and she glanced quickly at Nancy, and flashed her a warm smile. “Of course,” she said. “That’s chill.”

The ball of anxiety in Nancy’s chest eased a little. “Okay,” she said. “I think I’ll write him a letter. Then he can write his answer there, and give it back to me.” She discarded Mr. Bun and sat up, crossing her legs. “What’re you drawing?”

“You and me as snowmen,” Barbara told her. She lifted the paper up in Nancy’s direction, showcasing two identical snowmen, holding hands. She put the paper back down, and started sketching hair on the one on the left. “They’ll look like us in a jiffy.”

Nancy tilted her head as Barbara drew her braids. “Cool beans,” she said. “Can I have it when you’re done?”

Barbara’s smile deepened. “Of course.”

Nancy smiled too, feeling lucky to have Barbara as her best friend.

The next Monday, Nancy arrived to school with butterflies in her stomach and a sense of walking on air, with nothing solid beneath her. She waved her mom goodbye as she drove away, and clutched the straps of her backpack as tightly as she could, swallowing air.

She could do it. She’d simply walk up to Gabriel when he was alone, hand him her letter, and walk away. It would be easy. She’d practised what she’d say yesterday in front of the bathroom mirror.

_Hello. I’m Nancy, from your class. I wrote something for you, and I’d like it if you read it and then gave it back to me. Goodbye._

She headed towards the school building. It was practically deserted, seeing as classes didn’t start for another half an hour. Some older kids were hanging about by the front doors, smoking, but Nancy paid them no mind and walked in, letting her heart settle into a slower beat when she noticed there was no one there, either.

She found Gabriel in the music room, playing the piano. He looked up as she walked in, but kept playing, the soft sound of it echoing around the room. Nancy liked how he looked when he was playing – his brows furrowed in concentration, kind of like Barbara when she was drawing, and his fingers flew across the keys effortlessly.

Eventually, he trailed off, and turned towards Nancy. He smiled. “Hey, Nancy.”

Nancy stuttered. She hadn’t realized he knew her name. “Hello,” she said, and took a few steps forward. “I’m Nancy, from your class.”

Gabriel looked amused. “Yes,” he said. “I know.”

“I–” Nancy stopped, fidgeting with the letter in her hands. “I wrote...” She paused, looking down at the letter. This was dumb. She stuffed it in her coat pocket. “I was just wondering, if you’d like to go to the Snow Ball Dance with me?”

Gabriel’s mouth opened into a small, surprised ‘o’. “Ah,” he exclaimed, looking sheepish. “I’d like that, but I already asked Stephanie. Sorry.”

Nancy’s chest ached a little. It was an odd feeling, she thought, and fought the growing sense of disappointment rising in her. “Okay,” she said, and was proud when her voice didn’t shake at all. “Never mind, then. I liked your playing, by the way. It’s cool.”

“Thanks.” Gabriel looked at her, tilting his head. “Maybe we can hang, sometime?”

“I’d like that,” Nancy said. She felt sad, and rejected, and she wanted to leave. “Bye, then.”

Gabriel waved her goodbye as she turned on her heels and walked out, hands still clutching the straps of her backpack.

It was the first time she was disappointed by a boy. Barbara hugged her, and told her it’d be alright – she was sure someone would ask her to the dance, and it could be someone even nicer than Gabriel. But Nancy didn’t want to dance with someone else. She wanted to dance with Gabriel.

The days until the Snow Ball grew thin. Nancy looked more and more sour by the day, and kept shooting Stephanie annoyed glares when she wasn’t looking. This carried on, until one day, three days before the dance, Barbara had enough.

They were sitting in the cafeteria, Nancy staring at Gabriel, who was sitting with Stephanie, laughing at some dumb joke he’d made. She made a face, and stabbed at her sausage roll with her fork. “They’re annoying,” she pronounced.

Barbara turned towards the direction of her gaze, and rolled her eyes. “Nancy,” she started, lowering her voice. “This is ridiculous.”

“I didn’t think someone _else_ would ask him,” Nancy muttered.

“You said he asked her,” Barbara reminded her. “And besides which, what does it matter? Leave them alone.”

Nancy rolled her eyes. “ _Fine_ ,” she said. “But I still have no one to go the stupid dance with.”

Barbara pushed her food around nervously, avoiding looking at Nancy. “You could go with me,” she said quietly.

Nancy scoffed. “You can’t go with a _girl_ , that’s weird.”

“I meant, like, friends,” Barbara hurried to amend. “We can eat and laugh at everyone who sucks at dancing. I bet all the guys are terrible at it. At least we won’t have anyone stepping on our feet all night.”

Nancy sighed. She looked at Barbara, and gave her a small smile. “You know what, you’re right,” she said. “Boys are dumb, anyway. I have a lot more to talk about with you. And at least you won’t try to kiss me, or anything.”

Barbara laughed, and if it sounded hollow, Nancy didn’t notice. “No,” she agreed, talking more to herself than Nancy. “I won’t.”

The Snow Ball came and went. Nancy spent the evening with Barbara, sipping their sodas and laughing at the awkward dancing and hand-holding around the hall. A small part of her wanted to be up there, but then Barbara started talking about her new favorite book, and the feeling disappear as quickly as it had appeared.

Nancy didn’t really talk to Gabriel after that, and slowly, her crush vanished, as it tended to do at that age.

 

**1980**

 

Nancy was thirteen, and her stomach was fluttering again. But this time, it scared her.

She first noticed it at her birthday party. In a typical fashion, following tradition which had existed for years already, her birthday party consisted of her, Barbara, and a VHS cassette of either one’s choosing. This year, it had been Nancy’s pick, and so after dinner, they settled on the living room couch with blankets, candy, and _Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory_.

They’d seen it before – too many times to count – so as the clock ticked further, and their candy supplies diminished, their attention wavered. By the time they’d reached the fifty-minute mark, Barbara was slumped against Nancy’s side in a fit of giggles, their arms looped around each other.

Nancy laughed along, glancing at Barb from the corner of her eye. Her curls were pulled into a short ponytail which was coming apart, and her glasses were a little wonky. She laughed like she always did when she was alone with Nancy, loudly and from her entire heart.

Nancy’s own heart skipped a beat, and her stomach fluttered a little, and her laughter dwindled.

“ _Nance_ ,” Barbara whined, still giggling. “Come _on_ , focus on the movie!”

“Yeah,” she said distractedly. She shook her head. “Y-yeah, I am, you’re the one who’s not focusing.”

“Dream on,” Barbara said, amused. “God, why is your house always so damn _cold_?” She straightened up and reached over to her left to grab a blanket. She draped it over her shoulders and leaned back against Nancy, smiling slightly to herself, still.

Nancy blinked at the television, suddenly scared and feeling alone. The butterflies were always for boys. Right? She’d had crushes before, and she’d always had them on boys. This wasn’t that. This couldn’t be that. Barb was her best friend, for God’s sake – she was probably just tired. She was just tired, and high on sugar, and that was it.

Having rationalized this to herself, Nancy relaxed against the couch, reaching for another gummy bear. It was fine, she thought. Everything was fine.

But the feeling persisted. Nancy caught herself staring at Barbara a lot more, and noticing things she’d glossed over before. Like how her freckles reached all across her face and down her neck, and how her hair looked more red in certain lighting, and how nicely her glasses framed her face. Small things, _insignificant_ things – but Nancy couldn’t stop thinking about them.

She tried to find books on it – on feeling fluttery about your best friend – but she couldn’t find anything. Somehow, it felt like a thing she didn’t want to bring up with her mom, and certainly not with her dad. She could’ve asked Cathy, or Ally, but she didn’t want it to sound weird.

And it would have. She just knew it. They’d think she had a crush on Barbara, or something, and that was just dumb. Of course she didn’t have a crush on Barbara. How could she?

The year went on, and Nancy’s confusion grew alongside her feelings. She became irritated with herself for not understanding; surely she should’ve been able to decipher every feeling she felt, considering they were her own? Surely there should’ve been answers _somewhere_.

It all came crashing down when she was scrolling through the books in the library, and came across _Ruby_. She picked it up instinctively – it was new, it had to be. Nancy had never seen it before. She frowned at the cover, and then flipped it over to read the back cover.

Her eyes scanned the words, and the brows furrowed deeper. _Love_. Between Ruby and Daphne. She flicked the book open, and saw something scribbled on the front cover.

 _Don’t bother,_ it said. _Lesbians._

Nancy pressed the book shut, and stared numbly at the cover. Lesbian. She’d heard people talk about them before, in passing. But she wasn’t… _that_. She liked boys. She had crushes on boys. So, she couldn’t have been. And it still didn’t explain how she felt about Barb.

She didn’t loan the book. Someone would’ve noticed, and thought she was like that. She wasn’t.

Her feelings didn’t disappear, no matter how much Nancy tried to rather think about someone else rather than Barbara. Whenever Barb smiled at her, so radiantly, and her skin tingled, Nancy thought about David. She thought about Billy. She thought about pretty much any boy she had so much as spoken a word to, and tried to feel that way about _them_ , instead.

A month later, she caved, and went back to the library, but the book was gone.

Summer holidays started, and Nancy was half excited, and half terrified. Summer meant seeing Barbara a lot more. It meant sleepovers, and swimming, and picking berries. The fear inside Nancy grew exponentially. She wished, with all her willpower, to stop feeling this way. She wished for things to go back to the way they’d been, before.

But they didn’t.

Summer passed, turning into early autumn, and Nancy’s mom promised to take them to the nearest city to shop before school started again. Mike, now nine, got to come with them, while their dad stayed at home with Holly, who seemed to do little else than cry and sleep. Nancy didn’t mind Holly. She sort of minded Mike, and his friends who came over all the time, and didn’t know how to keep their voices down.

Karen took Mike to look for some toy he just _had to have_ , leaving Nancy alone in a bookstore she assured her she could survive twenty minutes alone in. Her mom and Mike disappeared through the door and down the street, and Nancy took to scanning through the shelves for something new to read.

She was the only one in the store, safe for the cashier who seemed more interested in his book than in what Nancy was doing. She shot him a wary look, before slipping through the shelf that said on one row in small, hand-written letters, _QUEER_.

There were a handful of books there, none of which looked familiar to Nancy. She looked through titles, from _Another Country_ to _Orlando_ , reading back covers and feeling uneasy from head to toe. One book caught her eye, squeezed between _Another Country_ and _Carol_.

 _The Bisexual Option_ , it said, and Nancy’s stomach did a flip. She scrolled through it, reading a sentence here and a sentence there, and feeling her chest explode with nerves with each word she digested.

Both. She blinked down at the book, crouched down on the floor, and felt light-headed. It seemed so simple and straight-forward. Both.

A voice cleared their throat next to her, and Nancy startled so badly she dropped the book and nearly fell down herself. She looked up to see the cashier looking down at her, worried.

“You need any help?” He asked. His gaze slid over to the book, which lay down on the ground with its cover turned upwards. “Or, uh. Advice?”

Nancy felt herself begin to tremble. “No,” she snapped, snatching the book and stuffing it back on the shelf. “I mean, I don’t – it’s fine. I’m fine.”

The cashier scratched the back of his neck, frowning a little. “I just mean, I gotta little experience myself. Thought you might need, I dunno.” He paused, glancing away. “I could make you some tea and we could talk. If you… need to. Or want to. I dunno.”

Nancy stared adamantly at the floor for a while. Then she stood up, feeling too short and too young and too dumb. “Are you… bisexual?” The word tasted odd on her tongue. Foreign and new.

The cashier laughed. “Me? Nah. I’m gay. But I know some bi people.”

Nancy glanced nervously at the door, but saw no one. “And it’s just… you can like anyone?”

“Pretty much.” The cashier followed her gaze to the door, and looked back at her. “You want me to recommend you something? Before your mom comes back?”

She did. Nancy bought two books with her own money – Carol, and Orlando – and the cashier wrapped them up so that the titles were hidden, before putting them in a bag. He handed it to her over the counter, and when he saw her hesitating in her steps, he smiled.

“Look, kid,” he said, and leaned his arms against the counter. “It’s scary as hell, yeah. I know that. But it don’t have to be. And it’s not gonna be. Now, when you get to my age, it’s just a part of who you are. Like how you got blue eyes. It’s just as normal as that.”

Nancy nodded hesitantly. “Do I have to… tell people?”

The cashier shrugged. “If you wanna, sure. If you don’t, don’t. I never told nobody, they just sort of guessed. Sometimes, it works that way. Up to you.”

Nancy nodded again. She squeezed the plastic bag in her hands tightly. “Okay. Thank you.”

The cashier waved her goodbye as she walked out the door and onto the street, feeling simultaneously lighter and yet like she was carrying a huge burden inside her. Her mom asked to see what books she’d gotten, but Nancy said they wouldn’t be interesting to her, and she dropped the subject.

Two weeks later, Nancy opened her diary. _I have a crush on Barbara_ , she wrote, then crossed it out. _I like Barb_. She paused, feeling her heart thud against her rib cage. _I’m bisexual_.

She looked at the words on the page, and her lips pulled into a smile.

 _I like people. And it’s okay. I’m okay_.

 

**1983**

 

Nancy curled tighter against herself, laying under her covers in the dark of her room. She hugged her legs, pressing her forehead against her knees and trying to breathe, breathe, breathe. She was sixteen, and Barbara was gone.

Her chest ached, a piercing pain that cut through everything else. Barbara’s laugh flashed in the silence of her mind, warm and right there, like she was sitting next to Nancy. But she wasn’t. She was gone, disappeared off to who knows where. She was probably alone, and scared, and it was all Nancy’s fucking fault.

How could she have been so selfish? She should never have left Barbara alone. She shouldn’t have gone with Steve, she _shouldn’t have_ , she’d been so stupid. Had Barbara left because of her? Because she liked Steve, and maybe Barbara liked her, and maybe Nancy liked her too but she also liked Steve, she liked Steve a lot, and so it didn’t make any sense to her–

There was a knock on the window. Nancy looked up, and saw Steve’s face through the dark pane, frowning with worry.

She dragged herself up and padded over to the window to push it open. A gust of cold air came through, and Nancy shuddered in her light shirt and jeans. Steve slipped in and closed the window quietly behind him, before standing straight in front of her, looking unsure.

“Hey,” he whispered, stepping closer. “You just like, disappeared before – what’s up?”

Nancy sniffled, looking down at the floor. Steve was wearing the same shoes he always did. “I, uh.” She swallowed air. “I went back to your house. To look for Barb.”

Steve frowned. “Barb?”

“Barbara,” Nancy clarified. “My friend? The one who came with me to your house?”

Steve nodded slowly. “Right, yeah, I remember. You mean you haven’t seen her?”

Nancy shook her head. She felt something get stuck in her throat, and closed her eyes briefly. “No. So, I went to look for her. She wasn’t there, but there was – there was _something_ there, in the woods, and I don’t know – I don’t know what it was, but it probably took Barb, and now I don’t know how to get her back and it’s all my fault and–”

“Hey,” Steve interrupted softly. “Hey, no, here–” He stepped closer, wrapping his arms around Nancy in a hug. She buried her face against his shoulder, feeling tears sting her eyes. “It’s alright,” he whispered. He moved his hand up and down against her back in a comforting way. “It’s alright, Nance, just breathe, alright? Breathe.”

She closed her eyes and remained there, in his arms, for more minutes than she dared to count. Eventually, when she felt like she could breathe again, she lifted her head and stepped back a little. Steve moved his hands to her upper arms for a second, before letting them slide down.

“D’you want to sit down?” He asked. “I think you should sit down.”

Nancy nodded wordlessly, and walked over to her bed, collapsing down on it. Steve sat next to her, their arms pressed against each other. They sat in silence for a while, before Steve broke it.

“You said you saw something there? In the woods?” He didn’t sound skeptical – just curious.

Nancy nodded again. “Yeah,” she started. Her voice sounded hoarse. “It didn’t… Steve, this is going to sound ten kinds of crazy, but it didn’t look human.” She looked at him, frowning a little. “I think something’s taken Barb.”

“Something,” he repeated, looking back at her. “Something that’s not… human.”

She huffed in frustration and stood up, crossing her arms. “Look, I know, it sounds fucking insane, I _know_ that, but it’s what I saw, alright?”

Steve raised his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t say I don’t believe you,” he amended. “I’m just trying to get all the facts here. When’s the last time you saw Barbara?”

“At your house,” she said. “When we went upstairs. I told her she should go.”

“Alright,” Steve said. He looked at her like she was a wounded animal – concerned, and worried. “So, that was, what? A few days ago? She could be anywhere, Nance. She could be sick, or she could’ve just taken off, or–”

“No,” Nancy cut him off, emphatically. “She wouldn’t do that, okay? She’d call me if she was sick, and she’d _tell me_ if she was going to run away. She’s – we’re – we’re close, okay? She’d tell me.”

Steve continued staring at her in that same infuriating way, like she was losing her mind – and yeah, maybe she was, but she was right about this. Nancy knew she was right, just like she knew that the Pythagoras theorem was true or that the Earth revolved around the sun.

“I know something’s happened to her,” she repeated. “She would tell me otherwise.”

“How do you know that?” Steve asked, spreading his hands. “How could you possibly know that, Nancy, maybe she just ran away with some guy and didn’t want to tell you–”

“She wouldn’t ran away with _some guy,_ when she was in love with _me_ ,” Nancy hissed, feeling anger bubbling in her chest, uncontrollable and volatile. Silence followed her words, and she took deep breaths, her chest heaving. Steve stared at her, blinking slowly, not saying a word.

“She was?” He finally asked in a small voice. “How do you know that?”

“Because–” Nancy cut herself off, turning away. She shouldn’t have said anything. Now she was going to ruin this, too, and she didn’t want to – she really didn’t want to. She liked Steve. She could see herself falling in love with Steve. But if he knew, he’d leave.

She heard the bed creak as Steve stood up and walked over to her, leaving some space between them. “How do you know that?” He asked again, and his tone was indecipherable.

Nancy stared at her socks, feeling her hands tremble. “Because I like her too, okay?” She said, not willing to turn around and meet his eyes. “And it doesn’t mean I don’t like you, I do. I like you a lot. You’re an idiot, but you’re my idiot. I just… I can’t explain it. But I understand if you don’t believe me.”

The silence was excruciating. Nancy could hear Steve’s breathing, could hear the wind blow outside. Eventually, Steve took a step closer, and wrapped his arms once more around her.

“I don’t get it,” he said, and Nancy could feel his breath on her skin. “But I don’t have to get it. I believe you. You wouldn’t have put up with me for this long if you _didn’t_ like me.” He paused, sniffling. “We’ll look into it, alright? We’ll find her. We’ll find Barb. I promise.”

It was the first time he made a promise to her he couldn’t keep. But Nancy nodded, and turned around to hug him back. And for the night, everything was alright.

 

**1986**

 

Nancy always woke up first.

It was funny – Jonathan was the one who was used to waking up early to make breakfast, to wake his brother up, to go to work. His whole life, he’d been up before the sunrise. Now that he had his own home, and was working at his own record store, he seemed to cherish the late mornings.

Steve, on the other hand, had learned early on to get used to the habit of sleeping in. It was rare to get him out of bed before nine, unless he had an early shift at work – and even then, he was so owlish and drowsy, it was impossible to get a single word out of him other than a grumbled _mornin’._

So it was Nancy who woke up at seven and climbed out of bed, doing her best not to wake up Jonathan or Steve, who generally grumbled minutely and then shuffled closed to each other, to fill the space left by her.

She had her own routines she religiously followed; she’d flip the coffee maker on, brush her teeth while it brewed, and then go out to the balcony with her cup to watch the city slowly blink to life. There was something special about New York she couldn’t put her finger on – it was a feeling in the air, a sense of something she didn’t know how to define. Whatever it was, she liked it.

Nancy sipped her coffee and stared down at the street at the cars passing by. It was late autumn, turning into winter; the air was becoming chilly, but not chilly enough that she wouldn’t have been fine without her thick woollen cardigan. The air smelled fresh after last night’s rain, and the balcony rails were still a bit misty.

Nancy heard an alarm go off inside, and smiled to herself. It would be Jonathan – he opened up around eight, on Mondays. Steve wouldn’t start work until ten, and Nancy knew he’d be blissfully asleep until 9:30, after which he’d panic he was going to be late and skip breakfast, as he always did, and then complain about missing breakfast when he came home, as he also always did.

A few minutes later, Jonathan popped his head through the open door, and squinted at Nancy. She turned slightly around to smile at him, lifting a brow.

“’s too bright,” he mumbled. “Did you make coffee?”

Nancy raised her own cup in confirmation. “There’s still some there,” she said. “It should still be warm, at least. Make another pot if it’s gone cold.”

Jonathan nodded, and disappeared back inside. Nancy turned towards the city, letting her shoulders relax.

It was mornings like this that were simultaneously the easiest, and the hardest. They felt easy – they felt comfortable. She felt at easy and like she belonged, like this was what she’d been meant to do all along.

But it was mornings like this that she missed Barb the most. Sometimes, it was a dull ache, almost buried underneath everything else. Sometimes, it was a sharp pain that dimmed everything else out, that demanded to be felt.

This morning, it was the former. It was manageable. She missed her, so much that it broke her from time to time – but she’d learned to live with it.

Jonathan appeared beside her, with his own cup of coffee, shivering in his pyjamas.

“It’s getting colder,” he said, glancing at his arms like the goosebumps were somehow his arms’ fault.

“That’s what winter does, yes,” Nancy pointed out, smiling to herself.

“Smart-ass,” Jonathan mumbled, sipping his coffee and making a face at the bitterness. “Why is it that you can’t make it drinkable to the rest of us?”

She shrugged, still smiling. “Wake up early and make your own, if you want to.”

Jonathan muttered something unintelligible into his cup, and Nancy’s smile grew. They sat side by side in a comfortable silence, listening to the sounds of the city. Jonathan finished before her, complaining about his burned throat, and went back inside to change.

Nancy finished her cup in peace, before retreating inside as well. She caught Jonathan on his way out, and gave him a brief kiss before he dashed out the door and down the hallway. He refused to use the elevator – she could hear his footsteps echoing down the stairs, before she pressed the front door shut.

The apartment fell silent again. Nancy washed their cups and left them to dry. She wrote Steve a note, asking him to stop by the store when he got home from work – they were out of milk, and sugar. She pinned it to the fridge.

The clock was ticking its way towards nine. Nancy’s first class started fifteen past, but they didn’t live a long way from the university. She changed her clothes and made herself a packed lunch, before checking she had all her books with her.

She gave one last glance at Steve’s snoring form, before closing the bedroom door and leaving the apartment, feeling content and happy.

Things were turning out alright for her. Outside, she breathed in the scent of fresh air, and let herself soak the feeling of it in for a few seconds.

She was nineteen. Life would be alright.


End file.
